Greater New Orleans

Big Brother is watching you: A Monologue by Sara Pagones

I'm not sure what bugs me more, that Facebook thinks I'm fat or that the social media site is spying on me.

This isn't paranoia. Anyone who pays attention to the ads that appear on their Facebook page notices that the targeted advertising is often less than flattering. One day last week I was bombarded with ads that promised to help me with my "aging'' skin, urged me to consider gastric bypass and mentioned a 52-year-old woman who needed help with her thinning hair.

I'm 52. But that wig I'm wearing on my Facebook profile picture was part of a costume. Really.

It didn't stop there. Next I noticed an ad that promised to help me lose 9 pounds in one week, right on top of another ad for delicious po-boys.

But just as I was complaining about that, on Facebook of course, I got a chilling insight into the digital age's omniscience. I had just congratulated a friend on her twins' high school graduation, and up popped an ad for graduation invitations.

I thought that was amazing, and commented, jokingly, that I was surprised at the lack of funeral home ads on my page, since I had just quoted Monty Python's "I'm not quite dead yet'' line.

A split second later, ads appeared from two florists and a company that makes funeral urns.

I felt like Tom Cruise in "The Minority Report,'' the part where he is running for his life through a mall, disguised from an intrusive high-tech society with stolen retina, and disembodied voices try to sell him sweat pants.

I don't want Facebook to try to anticipate my needs or wants or insecurities. And I sure don't want it to stalk me, now or after I'm dead.